


One Grotty Accident

by War_Disnei



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Cleaning, Clone Wars, Closet Sex, Coruscant (Star Wars), F/F, F/M, Galactic Republic, Gen, Jealousy, Jedi, Luxsoka, Naked Male Clothed Female, ObiTine Week, Obitine, Teen Crush, Teenage Drama, Trapped In A Closet, barrissoka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 02:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19714846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_Disnei/pseuds/War_Disnei
Summary: Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is in deep trouble! This time, a chase turned awry leaves him in dire need of a shower. Little does he know, it'll be more than water he'll get.At the same time, one togruta Padawan is raring to leave the Jedi Temple for a spicy evening.Takes place some time after Clone Wars s3e10 "Heroes on both sides".





	One Grotty Accident

Eminent Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was patrolling the Senate building with a few 212th clones as an emergency Senate meeting unraveled inside, when a huge silver spaceship obscured the last of the evening’s sunrays. An unexpected arrival, apparently. Right as he curiously eyed the approaching vehicle, wondering whether it was carrying asylum seekers, a petty mugging scene involving an elderly twi’lek lady and a nikto lowlife took place right before his eyes.  
“Help!” the elderly lady shrieked as the crook remorselessly pushed her to the ground after snatching her purse.  
“Hey!” Obi-Wan shouted, springing into action. The clones motioned to follow him, but Obi-Wan stopped them.  
“You keep watch… I’ve got this!” he gingerly exclaimed.  
As the thief realized he was being pursued, zigzagging across narrow streets, he panicked and dialed a fellow crook’s number on his comm-link.  
Obi-Wan, in the meantime, was getting closer and closer to his target, and feeling quite smug about it.  
“Baldozaar… help me get rid of the friggin’ Jedi!”  
The counterpart, Baldozaar, was a big heavy mon calamari guy. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, and for this reason he regularly got involved with the lowest of lowlife. His daytime job consisted of disposing portable public restrooms’ sewage, and for this reason he always had a barrel of nasty health-hazardous sludge at hand.  
As he was atop a nearby building, Baldozaar wasted no time pouring the barrel’s malodorous contents on the Jedi’s head, enabling his friend to escape.  
Obi-Wan was lunging forward to grab the mugger, when his field of vision became brown, the environment all around him slippery and squishy, his nostrils were invaded by the foulest smell imaginable. He slipped and fell on his butt, quickly realizing that one of his biggest nightmares had come true.  
“Yes! Take that, Jedi!” the nikto was triumphant.  
Obi-Wan blushed. He always had a snarky response at ready, but now, after having failed miserably at accomplishing a youngling-level task, covered in smelly poop, all he could do was feel embarrassed. He, who spent more time than the average Jedi making sure he was presentable, he who subtly (or maybe not so subtly, such as when he periodically threw teen Anakin’s nasty boots out) had little tolerance for enduring bodily odors, was now a defeated, walking crap monster. Being next to the Senate only made things worse, as the myriads of passing people all pointed at him, either whispering, laughing or looking away in disgust.  
He couldn’t blame them, as he acknowledged that his current state of being could well be a caricature of where his life was headed. The horror.

“What a fragrant way to end the day” he told himself as he sneaked back into the Senate building, looking for one of the guest refreshers in the upper floors. He couldn’t help the brown trail he was leaving behind, though, as he seriously hoped his mind-tricks would suffice to ensure his anonymity.

One hour later, Obi-Wan was still locked inside one of the Senate building showers, scrubbing all the dirt away even well after it was technically gone. A disgusting stench seemed to linger inside his nostrils, causing real smell detection to be difficult and making him terribly self-conscious. He had first rinsed himself, then he had washed his whole body with water and a strong detergent (the cleaning droids’ generic pellet, nonetheless), then with sonic waves, then with water and soap, he had wiped every orifice possible, his skin was beginning to feel tender from all the scrubbing and yet he still felt slimy. What a nightmare. At least Anakin wasn’t there to make fun of him, he told himself with a smirk.  
There was another problem, as well. He was naked, and that meant he would need to venture out like that as there was no way his clothes would be recoverable. They were incinerator-bound, there was no question about that.  
All wet and drippy from the shower, Obi-Wan exited the refresher hiding behind a less-than-thrilled cleaning droid. He was in one of the upper floors’ corridors, right next to a conference room. From behind closed doors, he could hear cackling sounds, the clatter of datapads being put to use and animated debates going on. A sign on the door read “Emergency meeting: do not disturb”. Furthermore, from the tall glass windows, he noticed the large passenger ship he’d seen approaching earlier docked at a nearby floating platform.  
Before curiosity got the best of him, the unfortunate Jedi heard voices approaching from the adjacent corridor and knew he needed to get lost, if he didn’t want himself exposed.  
The cleaning droid squealed, unnerved, as Obi-Wan scurried past it to reach a droid closet, shutting himself in without a second thought. He could already anticipate the Council’s disapproving looks if he ever were to be discovered in that state, in the Senate, of all buildings.  
No, he wouldn’t risk screwing himself – and the Jedi as a whole – up so badly. Besides, he was already starting to feel comfortable inside that dark, narrow closet, where he felt as safe as a baby in the womb. Nothing bad would happen to him, as long as he stayed in hiding, wouldn’t it?  
The voices outside got closer. There was squabbling and commotion, and he could sense Palpatine’s annoyed presence. The Chancellor walked past him, his gait sinuous like that of a panther, while the other presences disappeared somewhere, presumably inside the conference room. Phew. Luckily, nobody had discovered him. After all, why would they? It wasn’t like anyone would enter the Senate to get inside a closet, wouldn’t they?  
He was already finding humor within this statement, when he heard someone exiting the conference room and walking, or rather, running towards his closet.  
He barely had enough time to panic when the door burst open, exposing his caught-by-surprise nude physique to… someone he wouldn’t have expected seeing there in his wildest, craziest dreams.  
And yet here she was, the Duchess, draped in domineering greens.  
“Master Kenobi?!” she shrieked, arching an eyebrow as he instinctively dragged her inside and shut the door close, a moment before more people exited the conference room.  
Shock was quick to fade, on her part.  
“Well, well, if this isn’t a sight to see…”

\---

Ahsoka was getting ready to spend the night doing homework, in the library at the Jedi Temple.  
It was a mild summer evening, fireflies were flying all around the Temple’s outdoor hallways, lightening the atmosphere as well as the young togruta’s mood. Truth was, Ahsoka felt lonely. With her master gone on a “last minute Senate assignment” (oh yeah. As if Ahsoka believed any of that…), she really felt abandoned.  
From the tall glass window, she watched a line of fellow Padawans forming to enter the dojos for an extra hour of evening training. She huffed. Their idea of fun didn’t exactly match hers: all they could think about was duty, and a Padawan’s idea of a date or “girls’ night out” spanned from meditating together in the gardens, to reviewing for exams, to dueling. The topics she could bring up with most of them were limited, also: talking about crushes, fashion or recounting battlefield shenanigans were off-limits, as most apprentices weren’t willing to descend to “levels of shallow worldliness” and were very careful about the direction of their moral conduct. In short, Ahsoka’s spunk and spontaneity were ill-suited to the rigors of the Temple lifestyle. For that, Ahsoka felt very thankful for having been paired with Anakink, the freest Jedi ever. Oh, if only she could be granted the same degree of freedom he, as a full-fledged Jedi, enjoyed. Not for a long time, apparently. Patience. It meant she’d have to make do with Jocasta’s wise company for the evening, which all seen and considered, was better than most options available to her.  
However, Ahsoka quickly realized she’d spoken too soon: her comm-link buzzed with a message… from Lux Bonteri, of all people.  
As much as she’d rather make him wait, Ahsoka was instantly tempted to check. As a pampered yet prematurely matured child of nobility, Lux embodied everything she secretly wanted for her life in that moment, with his proactive spirit and slight air of entitlement.  
“Hello Sweet” the message read.  
“Sweet your granny” she replied, groaning.  
“Perhaps “sour cream” is the word you’re looking for”  
Ahsoka rolled her eyes.  
“Ha ha ha… spill the beans”  
“I am on Coruscant”  
Ahsoka started coughing, trying not to choke. What?!


End file.
